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2
“I was at the piano,” said Stephen Restarick. “I’d been strumming softly
when the row blew up. Between Lewis and Edgar.”
“What did you think of it?”
“Well—to tell the truth I didn’t really take it seriously. The poor beggar
is a kind of blowing off steam. The truth is, we all get under his skin—par-
ticularly Gina, of course.”
“Gina? You mean Mrs. Hudd? Why does she get under his skin?”
“Because she’s a woman — and a beautiful woman, and because she
thinks he’s funny! She’s half Italian, you know, and the Italians have that
That’s what Gina did, metaphorically6 speaking. She’d no use for young
of himself. He wanted to impress, and he only succeeded in looking silly. It
wouldn’t mean anything to her that the poor fellow suffered a lot.”
“Are you suggesting that Edgar Lawson is in love with Mrs. Hudd?”
Stephen replied cheerfully:
“Oh yes. As a matter of fact we all are, more or less! She likes us that
way.”
“Does her husband like it?”
“He takes a dim view. He suffers, too, poor fellow. The thing can’t last,
you know. Their marriage, I mean. It will break up before long. It was just
one of these war affairs.”
“This is all very interesting,” said the Inspector. “But we’re getting away
“Quite,” said Stephen. “But I can’t tell you anything about it. I sat at the
old keys and tried to fit one to the lock of the study door.”
“You stayed at the piano. Did you continue to play the piano?”
“A gentle obbligato to the life and death struggle in Lewis’ study? No, I
outcome. Lewis has what I can only describe as a dynamic eye. He could
easily break up Edgar just by looking at him.”
“Yet Edgar Lawson fired two shots at him.”
Stephen shook his head gently.
“Just putting on an act, that was. Enjoying himself. My dear mother used
to do it. She died or ran away with someone when I was four, but I re-
member her blazing off with a pistol if anything upset her. She did it at a
nightclub once. Made a pattern on the wall. She was an excellent shot.
Quite a bit of trouble she caused. She was a Russian dancer, you know.”
“Indeed. Can you tell me, Mr. Restarick, who left the Hall yesterday
evening whilst you were there—during the relevant time?”
“Wally—to fix the lights. Juliet Bellever to find a key to fit the study
door. Nobody else, as far as I know.”
“Would you have noticed if somebody did?”
Stephen considered.
“Probably not. That is, if they just tiptoed out and back again. It was so
dark in the Hall—and there was the fight to which we were all listening
“Is there anyone you are sure was there the whole time?”
“Mrs. Serrocold—yes, and Gina. I’d swear to them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Restarick.”
Stephen went towards the door. Then he hesitated and came back.
“Who mentioned arsenic to you?”
“My brother.”
“Ah—yes.”
Stephen said:
“Has somebody been giving Mrs. Serrocold arsenic?”
“Why should you mention Mrs. Serrocold?”
“I’ve read of the symptoms of arsenic poisoning. Peripheral15 neuritis,
isn’t it? It would square more or less with what she’s been suffering from
been going on here?”
“The matter is under investigation,” said Inspector Curry in his most of-
ficial manner.
“Does she know about it herself?”
“Mr. Serrocold was particularly anxious that she should not be —
alarmed.”
“Alarmed isn’t the right word, Inspector. Mrs. Serrocold is never
alarmed … Is that what lies behind Christian Gulbrandsen’s death? Did he
find out she was being poisoned—but how could he find out? Anyway, the
whole thing seems most improbable. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It surprises you very much, does it, Mr. Restarick?”
“Who, in your opinion, would be likely to administer arsenic to Mrs. Ser-
rocold?”
For a moment, a grin appeared upon Stephen Restarick’s handsome
face.
“Not the usual person. You can wash out the husband. Lewis Serrocold’s
got nothing to gain. And also he worships that woman. He can’t bear her
to have an ache in her little finger.”
“Who then? Have you any idea?”
“Oh yes. I’d say it was a certainty.”
“Explain please.”
Stephen shook his head.
“It’s a certainty psychologically speaking. Not in any other way. No evid-
ence of any kind. And you probably wouldn’t agree.”
Stephen Restarick went out nonchalantly, and Inspector Curry drew cats
on the sheet of paper in front of him.
He was thinking three things. A, that Stephen Restarick thought a good
deal of himself, B, that Stephen Restarick and his brother presented a
united front; and C, that Stephen Restarick was a handsome man where
Walter Hudd was a plain one.
He wondered about two other things—what Stephen meant by “psycho-
logically speaking” and whether Stephen could possibly have seen Gina
from his seat at the piano. He rather thought not.
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